Chapter 5: Fish Learns Drift’s Secret

Drift didn’t stop running until he and Fish were far from the sound of howls and the land had flattened into a field of blue-white snow.

As his footsteps slowed and then stopped, the sky cleared and the sun began to hide behind two nearby hills. There weren’t many trees in this part of the world but what few there were stuck up from those hills, like spines on sleeping hedgehogs.

“Well,” Drift said, as he lowered Fish to the floor and brushed himself down. “Dat was exciting.” He knelt and gave the girl a wink. “I wasn’t door we’d get out of dat in one piece.” He felt his face where his nose was meant to be and then held out his hand.

To his surprise, Fish didn’t hand over the nose. She fixed him with the sort of stare he had received from her mum. And then he felt the sharp prod prod of her fists as she began to thump him, hard, in the chest.

“How DARE you,” Fish said. “Take me back. You had no right to kidnap me. NO RIGHT AT ALL.”

The snowman caught Fish’s hands with one soft paw and lifted her into the air. So, she began to kick him instead.

“But…” he spluttered. “You said you wanted to run away. I was helping.”

“LET ME GO,” she yelled, still kicking.

“I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” Fish thundered. “LET ME GO.”

“Dough,” Drift said. “I dough I can let you go. What I mean is I can’t let you go back. It’s just dot possible.”

Drift dropped Fish into the thick snow. She raised a fist and held it in the air.

“Why not?” she said.

“I don’t dough duh way.”

Fish’s face screwed up as she tried to make sense of the snowman. “What? Wait.” She fished the half-carrot from her blanket and shoved it, none too gently, into Drift’s face.

“Ouch,” he said. “Thank you.”

“Say that again,” Fish told him, her eyes narrowing and darkening.

“I said I don’t know the way.” Drift smiled at her.

Fish’s shoulders sagged and she began to look around at the almost featureless landscape. “So… we’re… lost?” She had never been lost before. On fishing trips, she had always travelled with her dad but on hunting trips she had travelled with her mum. They knew every mountain, floe and ravine from here to where the green grasses began. Even when her dad left her he always brought her safely back to whatever spot they called home. Except for that last time.

Drift looked around. “Lost?” he said. “What does that mean?”

“It means you don’t know where we are.” Fish raised her fists again and Drift took a few steps back.

“Steady on,” he said. “Of course I know where we are.” He stamped a thick, snowy foot on the ground. “We’re here.”

The girl sighed. That sounded more reassuring. “So you know the way back?” she said.

“Oh no.”

“Well if you don’t know where we are, then we’re lost.”

Confused, Drift tried again – this time in slower and more loudly. “We. Are. Here,” he said. “Look.” He pointed down at his feet. “Knowing where you are is very important,” he added.

Fish plonked herself down into the snow. She had tears in her eyes. “What’s the use of knowing where were are if we can’t find our way back?” she asked.

“Back?” said Drift. “Oh I don’t have much reason to go back. Just forwards. Lots of forwards.” He leaned forward and patted her on the head. “I’m on the run, you see. For a crime I didn’t commit.” He covered his mouth. “Oops. That was supposed to be a secret.”

Fish leapt towards him and began to shout.

“It was you! Mum and Viktor were hunting for you!”

Drift tumbled backwards, trying to put a little safe distance between himself and the furious child.

“Me?” he spluttered. “Impossible. No! What do you mean? I don’t know what you mean. What do you mean? Me? I’m just a…”

His voice trailed away as Fish turned her back on him. He watched as she walked a little way away and sat down. Drift shook himself, shedding a fair amount of the extra weight he’d gained during the storm.

“Unless…” The snowman scratched his head. “Are we brother and sister? Because I never knew my mum, you know. Or at least, if I did then I’ve forgotten. I do that sometimes. Forget, I mean. I think.”

“What?” Fish turned and glared at him. “No we are NOT. She recognised you because of what you did.”

Drift strode over to sit by the girl who was tiny against the vast expanse of snow and sky.

“Oh,” he said. “That. Him. So he was your…”

“Yes,” Fish said. “My dad.”

“I’m sorry,” said Drift.

“Sorry?” Fish said, leaping to her feet and raising her fists again. “Sorry? You killed him, but all you can say is you’re sorry? If you weren’t so big I’d…” She slammed her fists down by her side, kicked at the snow and sat with her back to him.

Drift said nothing. What could he say? He was on the run for a crime he didn’t commit. A terrible crime. He knew someone had died. He’d seen one man disappear and he’d heard the howls of huskies and the shouts of another man. He’d run for miles and miles. He’d crashed through towns and run again. And in all that time he’d never actually stopped to think about anybody but himself.

He opened his mouth, ready to tell Fish he was innocent. “FREE DRIFT,” he’d almost said. The words “I’M WANTED FOR A CRIME I DIDN’T COMMIT,” froze on his frosty lips.

“Tell me about him,” he said after sitting quietly for a few minutes.

Fish spun around again, ready to fly at him. Then she noticed how gentle the snowman looked and thought how quietly he had spoken to her. He didn’t seem like a killer.

She made a funny choking sound. “There’s not much to tell,” she said. “We were fishing – like we always do. Did,” she corrected herself. “He left me. Cut a hole in the ice and told me to sit and watch for the gold – that’s what he always called our dinner. Said he had to check on something. He was gone for an hour, maybe. I heard the sound of thunder and he never returned. It was mum who found me.”

Drift put an arm around her. He felt soft, as though the snowflakes which made him were simply holding hands. “It wasn’t me,” he said. “It really wasn’t.”

Fish leaned into Drift and pulled her blanket tighter around her shoulders. It wasn’t so cold there in the shelter of the snowman and she felt safe. She was angry, but not at Drift. She looked up at him, searching for the truth in his face. She saw nothing but unspoilt snow.

“I believe you,” she said, at last.

“Phew,” he replied, standing up and knocking her to the floor. “Well I’m glad that’s sorted. Right. Mustn’t dawdle. Best be off. Bye.”

“Wait.” Fish took his hand. “You can’t leave me here.”

“Well I can’t stay,” Drift said. “I’m wanted for a crime I didn’t commit. And nobody but you believes I’m innocent.”

Fish tugged at his arm until the big snowman sat again. She drew a little heart on his chest. “Then we’ll make them believe you,” she said.

It must have been getting colder because Drift’s face began to glisten as though ice was forming on his cheeks.

“I bet your dad was nice,” he said.

“He was,” Fish said.

“Mums can be nice too,” Drift said. “Or so I’ve heard.”

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Illustration © Carl Pugh